Perception
by high-striker
Summary: Our insecurities and fears can overtake everything else, including reality.  But that doesn't mean that we can't overcome them. NW slash more warnings for spoilers etc. inside.


Title: Perception

Author: HighStriker

Rating: R/ possibly borderline NC-17

Pairing: Nick & Warrick

Summary: Our insecurities and fears can overtake everything else, including reality. But that doesn't mean that we can't overcome them.

Warnings: Spoilers for Grave Danger, Primum Non Nocere, Overload, Stalker, and possibly others up through season 6.

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A lot of people think that they hate themselves. They think that they're unacceptable, that they're not good enough for anyone else. Reality doesn't even mean a thing to them though, because our insecurities don't have to reflect reality.

I'm not an exception to that either, although I tend to think that I genuinely loathe every little thing about myself. It doesn't take much for me to start picking away at every little detail in my life- finding faults in pretty much everything that I do. Which sucks, really, because that, in and of itself, is another flaw.

Just another invisible tally mark that isn't on my side. Another reason for me to wonder why I'm trying so hard when I know that inevitably, I'm going to fail at anything I do. It's not like there's a whole lot for me to look back on and feel proud of.

And that's the other problem. Because reality isn't much kinder. In fact, most of the time it's so much worse. My insecurities are founded in reality; they're not made up, they're not even irrational. It's all too real, and sometimes I think that's why I hate myself so much.

_"Life's too short to waste, bro. Especially on someone like her." _

Those words ought to make me happy. Because they mean that he's sorry for not seeing the truth about Lillie Ivers; that he's sorry for not believing me. But they don't make me happy, they don't even make me smile. That was over four years ago now, and I'm not the same person I was then.

I'd been so hopeful- so fucking naïve that it still hurts. There was a time where I thought I actually had a chance, where I thought he might someday see me as something more than a friend. But that was when I had the luxury of being naïve and foolish to help me.

Being buried alive changed that perspective. I know that everything I'm feeling, that everything I feared back then was completely true. Which means that I can't hide from it anymore. I know a lot about Warrick. Since my first year in Vegas I've tried to learn everything that I can about him. But it's just that one line that keeps me up at night.

I don't know why I ever thought I had a chance in hell with him. Even if he wasn't a ladies' man he still wouldn't want someone like me. And while my problems aren't like the ones she had, they're still there. Haunting me- my life, no matter what I do.

Sometimes I almost think that being addicted to drugs would give me better odds. Because there is no way that a guy like Warrick could ever see something in me. Not after being buried alive. Not after being stalked, not after having a gun held in my face, not after having been sexually abused. I pause on the last one, simply because he doesn't know about it. But it's still there- it still happened. Just another burden on my shoulder that won't go away.

So it makes the list of problems in my completely fucked up life. Add to that list the fact that I still have problems with drinking too much alcohol and that there hasn't been a night since my abduction where I haven't woken up from my own screams, and you can forget about finding anyone who might be interested in me. That sucks too, because I can't even blame Warrick.

It's my own fault.

And that's why I haven't been able to look at myself in the mirror since they found me. The sudden pounding of someone's fist on my door makes me jump. My already trembling hands too shaky too hold onto the toothbrush and toothpaste as I watch them hit the porcelain sink. I quickly pull on my robe, even though I'm already wearing a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. That's another flaw that I've developed more recently.

It's one of those moments where I don't feel comfortable with anyone seeing much of my skin, it starts to feel as if the bites are still there. As if I'm some sort of hideous monster that people should be running away from while screaming at the top of their lungs.

Thus, it isn't really a surprise when I open my door that I'm so shocked to see _him_ of all people standing there. "W-what are you doing here?" I flinch when I notice how unsteady my voice is, and I can't help but mentally check off another reason why I can't stand myself.

"I, uh… I thought you should be the first to see this."

He doesn't say anything else, just offers me the simple manila envelope. I take it, trying my best to keep my hands from trembling. The whole time my eyes never really stop watching him, and when he starts shifting his weight from foot to foot I start to feel even more anxious.

Except the moment I pull out the papers I'm convinced that I've fallen asleep. I'm convinced that this is a dream, because there is no possible way that this is actually happening.

I never think about her. It hurts too much to think that Warrick's married, so I avoid it like it's the black plague. When you add in the fact that Warrick never really brings her up it makes it that much easier for me. But there's no way that I can't think about her right now.

Because that's her signature on the paper in my hands. Right there, beneath Warrick's own name, in that simple scrawl. I don't know how long we stand there as I reread the page over and over again. "You… you guys got- you got a d-d-divorce… why?"

"Well, uh- that's actually why I'm here, Nick. Ya see, there's something I should've done a long time ago, but… well, I was scared. I…" He pauses, and despite my best efforts I can't help but look into those eyes. "I don't think I'm scared anymore."

I'm pretty sure that my mouth is hanging open, and that I'm making a complete ass of myself, but I don't care. My mind curses, telling me that I'm being naïve, that his words don't mean what I so desperately need them to. Then I feel my entire body tremble, quivering ever so slightly, and I'm not sure if I've ever felt more nervous in my entire life.

It takes several moments for my mind to snap back to the present, and when it does my eyes go wide. Because those are his lips pressing against mine, those are his hands- his arms, wrapped around me. Holding onto me for dear life.

For the first time in years I forget all about the alarm. I forget about everything when Warrick quickly closes the door behind him, his arms never moving away from me.

Even as we steadily, albeit clumsily and pretty awkwardly, move through my house, towards my bedroom it still feels like a dream. That is until we bang into the door jam just outside my room, and suddenly everything feels far more intense.

For once my mind is actually jumping in glee, because I know from far too much experience that the pain you feel in your dreams isn't the same as it is in real life. And this pain is definitely real.

He doesn't waste any time freeing me of my robe, and it isn't long before the rest of my clothes are gone. I can't help but moan when he steps away, but when I see him making quick work of his own clothes I almost feel like I want to cry.

Then he's back, pushing our bodies together, holding onto me. We fall back into my bed, nearly missing, but he's holding me too tightly to let me fall. Which is one of the best feelings in the world, one that I haven't felt in such a long time.

Safe, secure- loved.

There's no confusion anymore that this is in fact real; that I'm definitely not dreaming. He's really there, hovering over me. Making me feel the most incredible sensations as we move together- our hands never stopping their exploration over each other's skin. Our lips constantly seeking more skin to latch on to.

Without a word he quickly reaches over to the nightstand, and I can't hold back the small smile when he actually looks happy to see the full box of condoms, and the jar of lube that hasn't been used. My fears that he'd make fun of me don't even come to mind though. None of my fears come to mind, because he's the only thing I can get my mind to think about.

And then I feel his fingers slide into me as I quickly push down, trying to get them to go even deeper. Our eyes meet again, and he offers me one of the most beautiful smiles I've ever seen.

I want to grab onto his arm to stop him when he pulls his hand away, but I manage to restrain myself. The moment he slides into me I cry out, moaning louder under the ministrations and the mere feelings he's creating. They're the most wonderful sensations, and it's a moment that I never want to end.

Everything's dark when I open my eyes. My breathing is heavy, and the last images in my mind are already starting to fade. The only source of light is from the soft blue glow of my clock on my nightstand. While I'm not sure why anymore, I just get the feeling that I really want to cry.

It's not until that hand ever so gently wipes the first of my tears away that my breath catches in my throat. Then those strong, powerful arms wrap around me, and he ever so gently turns me back towards him and kisses my forehead.

I smile up at him, and for the first time in a long time, I start to think that maybe I have been letting my insecurities overcome my perception of reality. Because right now, there's no doubt that Warrick is lying next to me, holding me. And that he loves me.

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Da End... :) 


End file.
